


a little worn down in between

by bigender dean winchester (homosexualitie)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brothers, Episode: s02e01 In My Time of Dying, Episode: s02e10 Hunted, Gen, Psychic Abilities, you all know... like twin telepathy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homosexualitie/pseuds/bigender%20dean%20winchester
Summary: very slight au where sam is a little more psychic.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	a little worn down in between

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i ripped the title from needtobreathe "brother". it's supernatural, what do you expect.

“You know, I hated him too,” Dean says quietly, driving over the border between South Dakota and Minnesota. Dad’s body has been burned, and Dean’s aches are more or less gone. Sam tried to stop him from driving, but Dean is a force to be reckoned with, even shell-shocked and grieving as he is. 

Perhaps grieving isn’t the right term. Dean’s almost angry now, a pot about to boil, and something else, too, something dull and tired. Not, Sam wants to note, a good condition to be driving in. Especially if Dean’s about to wax poetic on him, which is cause for great concern. 

Sam feels a prickling in the back of his head, like a headache before it becomes a headache. “Can we do this later?” Sam asks, trying to get Dean off the topic. Sam’s on map duty, and he’s found a motel only an hour away. If he can shut Dean up for an hour-

“He asked too much of us,” Dean says. “Me and you both. He asked perfection. I...  _ we _ couldn’t match up.”

Sam looks over at Dean, at the side of his head. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes dark. If Sam doesn’t stop him, he’ll talk about Dad until they get to the motel, because he wants Sam to talk about it too. If Sam stops him, well. He’s not sure about that. 

“Dean,” Sam says quietly, trying not to provoke Dean. It’s become so easy lately, and Sam’s had to watch his words around Dean more and more often. 

Dean scoffs. “I can’t believe him, I really can’t. He’s-  _ was _ -” that, Dean spits with venom, as if he’s accusing Dad of something- “a fucking psychopath, fuckin’ raising his kids as  _ soldiers _ , makin’ me look after you like _ I _ was your dad, cause he couldn’t be.” 

If Sam tries to stop Dean, he’ll stop the car to yell. He knows this intuitively, knows that he should shut up and let Dean talk under his breath about Dad. But he doesn’t want Dean angry  _ and _ injured behind the wheel. One is bad enough. 

“Dean, I can’t do this tonight,” Sam says.

True to form, Dean slams on the brakes and pulls the car to the side of the road, gets out. Sam follows suit, their doors slamming in unison. “I can’t fucking believe you,” Dean snaps, fury clouding his voice. He’s never this angry. If they weren’t separated by the car, Dean would hit him. He still might. “What is this, some ‘don’t speak ill of the dead’ bullshit? He ruined us, both of us!”

Sam looks down at him. Dean’s always worn his emotions on his sleeve, always said  _ exactly _ what he means. But he’s lying now, lying about something big. 

“What are you hiding?” Sam asks, keeping his voice as even as he can. 

Dean was on a roll before, about to go off on another rant about Dad, but he stops instantly at that. For a moment, the two brothers stare at each other, neither saying anything. 

“How do you...” Dean is afraid now, though his face doesn’t show it. (He shows fear in his hands instead, Sam knows.)

Sam doesn’t know how he knows either. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing he should share with Dean. 

“Get in the car,” Dean says. Sam doesn’t move. “Get in the fucking car!” he snaps. Sam sighs and gets in the car, slamming the door behind him. 

Dean starts driving again, silent and angry. Or- no, he’s not angry. He’s scared again, the anger is just a front. Sam watches him silently, and calculates how long they have left before they get to the motel. 

“Dad said-” Dean starts and stops. “You know how, when we were kids, Dad used to tell me to take care of you whenever he went off on hunts? How I’d look out for you, make sure you didn’t get into too much trouble?”

Sam doesn’t know how, but he puts the pieces together. “He told you there’s something wrong with me?”

Dean flinches. Sam sees why- there  _ is _ something wrong with Sam, in the way that he can sense things about Dean in a way no one, not even Dad, could. 

“And if I couldn’t take care of you,” Dean continues, then doesn’t continue. 

Sam fills in the blanks. “Are you going to kill me?” Dean doesn’t say anything more, but he speeds up, the empty landscape whipping by. 

Dean’s terrified. Sam doesn’t even have to look at his hands to see that Dean has a death grip on the steering wheel, eyes trained on the road with deliberate focus. And Sam shouldn’t have to ask, anyway. With a certainty that almost surprises him, Sam  _ knows _ that Dean won’t kill him. That Dean will fail to do what their father asked of him. 


End file.
